World of War
by Beael
Summary: This is going to be a collection of one-shots from the final year before Voldemort's fall.


This is going to be a series of one-shots about the last year before Voldemort's fall. They won't be in any particular order but will be uploaded as I write them. Feel free to leave a review and if you do, please tell me what you think of the story!

The first one-shot was written for One Line challenge att HPFC. The only rule was that the story should start with the line "The water looked deep and inviting."

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><p><strong>Innocent<strong>

The water looked deep and inviting. Neville had never fully understood why people would commit suicide, not up until this point. He was generally a very optimistic person and though life had not always treated him well he believed in always making the best out of every situation, no matter what happened.

How did one make the best out of war?

He knew that they had won the last battle. Voldemort was dead, Hogwarts was saved and most of his friends were alive. Hurt, but alive. Problem was, not all of them were. The names and faces of the dead passed in front of his eyes as he stared at the dark water of the lake.

A red-haired girl smirked and waved - the camera around her neck as always. Rebecca Walters had managed to survive through almost the full battle, but during those last few minutes before Harry's sudden return she had fallen dead from a fast killing curse. Later that morning, when everyone had settled down and finally gone to sleep, Neville had seen her camera on the floor, crushed. Apparently she had brought it with her to the battle. He didn't know why he did it, but he picked up the small item with shaky fingers and put it in his pocket. Even now, standing on the edge of the lake, he could feel it against his leg.

He hadn't noticed, but tears were starting to fall down his cheeks. People whom he had known for so long, whom he had loved dearly was now dead. He almost couldn't believe that they were all dead, because they had been so alive not twenty-four hours earlier.

And now he would never meet them again.

It wasn't only his friends, either. People whom he up until this day Neville had never said a word to had fought by his side, risking and giving their lives for him.

Three Hufflepuff boys, whom had all graduated the year before, had fallen only minutes after each other. It had been clear by the way they worked together that they knew each other in and out and when the first of them died the pain had been so obvious on them that the two others lost all will to fight.

Brendan Odell was a curly-haired and chubby boy that in many ways reminded Neville of himself. He had looked up to the older boy when they both were younger because even though he wasn't very confident he did well in school and seemed to have an easy time with girls. Until this last year Neville had never even realized that he was good at things too and wasn't only Harry Potter's protégé but brave in himself.

John Wilson and Noah Westport had stared at their friend in shock when he fell down a window, pushed by a death eater who desperately tried to get away from one of the large spiders. As if it happened in slow-motion Brendan had fallen until he hit the ground, hard. His body had broken completely and his blood colored the grass around him red.

Noah didn't seem to be able to fight on, too traumatized by all the deaths and John had lost his life trying to save his other friend from a killing curse he hadn't seen coming. Neville wasn't sure, he hadn't seen it happen, but mere seconds later Noah had fallen down the window as well and this time no death eaters were around.

Then Neville hadn't understood him. The urge to live had been so very, very strong and more than anything he had wanted to be there when Voldemort died. Never before in his life had he wanted anything as bad as he wanted to see that man suffer.

In a way, he though Harry had been too easy on Voldemort. To simply kill the man didn't feel like a strong enough punishment for the lives he had ruined, the people he had killed.

Because there were other people, too. People Neville had known better. They know floated in front of his eyes and their sad eyes made him cry harder. Why hadn't he died instead? They didn't deserve their fate!

Lavender Brown was currently fighting for her life in the hospital wing, like all too many others. Madame Pomfrey did her very best to save as many lives as possible and there where others there that helped her too. Merula Autumn, one of the Slytherin seven years had been up all night taking care of the injured, proving to everyone that not all Slytherin were bad.

Perhaps the death of Colin Creevey was the one that had affected Neville the most. The sixteen year old had been innocence impersonated, even as the younger boy got older and more experienced. Before Neville's eyes wasn't the face of sixteen years old Colin, it was the small boy with the camera, the boy who couldn't take no for an answer.

Suddenly Neville's knees buckled and he fell to the ground, sobbing worse than ever. His whole body shook as if he had his own personal earthquake and he couldn't believe the longing was _so _strong. He wanted to get down into the water and never come back again, forever caught in its silence and calmness. He wanted to join his friends in heaven or whatever came after this life.

The sun was high in the sky and in a way it felt like it was mocking the survivors, the ones left behind. How could they smile and be happy when so many were dead and would never see another sunrise? Neville vividly remembered one time when Fred and George Weasley had woken the whole Gryffindor tower up to watch the sun rise to the sky while the twins played happy upbeat music and sang along, making complete fools out of themselves. It had been two years ago, during Neville's fifth year and even though he back then had envied them and thought them silly he now realized why they had done it.

During the darkest of times you needed laughs the most. It was what kept you going, what made you fight on even when you desperately wanted to just let go and let evil win.

"Neville?"

The voice was beautiful, a warm summer breeze and his very favorite ice-cream, the smell of the green houses and the feeling of absolute freedom. She sounded worried, but he couldn't figure out why. He was alive, wasn't he? Voldemort was dead, he was alive and there shouldn't be anything for her to worry about. She as much as him was an optimistic person and he couldn't imagine her face without the slightly tilted smile. Once, she had told him that she had hurt her lip with a fork when she was younger. The whole story was very endearing.

"Neville?"

It came closer this time, only a few meters away from him, but he didn't look up. Something inside of him had broken and he couldn't repair it. A warm hand on his shaking shoulder and an awkward hug from behind.

"It's okay," her voice whispered. "You can cry, you know."

"Hannah." His voice cracked, but it didn't matter. She only hugged him tighter and whispered nonsense words in his ears, words of safe and love and home.

Hours later the tears ceased and he looked up, ashamed to meet her eyes. They held no blame and he knew at that moment why he loved her. She was so free of judgment, such a loving person and with a bigger heart than anyone else he knew.

"I love you," he mumbled and leaned forward, lips parting.

"I know," she said as they broke apart from their very first kiss, only moments later but after what felt like eternity. "I love you too."

The water looked deep and inviting, like a warm blanket did in the cold winter or Hannah's eyes did at that very moment. Innocent.


End file.
